


La Maison Close

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Drug use as well, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, d'Artagnan in distress once again.<br/>This time though there will be implied rape mentioned but nothing graphically depicted, along with mentions of drug use. Oh and some off color language from dear d'Art as well.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Maison Close

_Porthos' apartment, early afternoon_

Slamming his drink down so hard that its contents splattered onto Aramis' clean, white shirt, Athos ran a weary hand down his face. Hating his inaction he abruptly stood up, knocking over the chair he had been sitting on in the process. "It's been nearly a week!" he shouted at his friends. Sick with worry, Athos for the first time in his life knew real fear. "We should still be out there searching for him!"

Exchanging concerned glances, Aramis and Porthos too appeared sick at heart over their missing youngest.

"The only reason we came back," Porthos gruffly said, trying to be the voice of reason, "was that we all needed a break." He hung his head down to stare at his hands. Flexing them, Porthos thought that he could easily break a man in two with them but what good were they if he couldn't shake out information sorely needed from the cut-purses and canailles they had been interrogating relentlessly?

"Poupart at least told me he hadn't had any new bodies delivered to his morgue so far this week," Aramis spoke quietly, as if saying the words any louder would make them become a reality.

"And that made me feel oh so much better," Athos snapped. That was a road he hadn't considered going down yet and his faced leeched of color at Aramis' words.

"Someone had to think rationally," Aramis glared at both Athos and Porthos, the latter looked ready to rip him apart. "God knows neither of you were."

"And you, Aramis," Porthos roughly snorted, " _you_ can think rationally while the whelp's gone missin'?"

Standing up, Aramis appeared ready to start a fight with his closest friend. "Think you not I don't care for the lad?" he fumed as Aramis backed away from the table, kicking out at the chair he had just vacated. Hatless, his wavy, dark hair was in disarray from the many times he had carded his fingers through it. "My soul's crying out for the boy!"

"Jumping down each other's throats leads us nowhere," Athos announced softly, having calmed himself down somewhat. Stabbing each man with a steady look he started to add something more and then thought better of it, clamping his lips tightly shut instead.

"What were ya gonna say?" Porthos knew the look Athos now wore. It was the _look_ that often told them that Athos would go this alone if he had too. "Ya ain't settin' one foot out that door without us!"

"We've lost one brother," Aramis reminded the other man sharply, "we don't intend to lose another."

"D'Artagnan's not lost," Athos murmured quietly. "He's somewhere in Paris waiting for us to rescue him." Placing a hand over his heart, Athos tapped his chest. "I feel it here."

Neither Aramis or Porthos were going to argue that point, especially when Athos had one of his rare feelings. They usually turned out to be correct.

"All right, let's hit the streets again and see what information we can scrounge up from any brigands we meet along the way." Grabbing his hat, Aramis slammed it on top of his head with determination burning like a flame from within him.

It was a lonely threesome that walked down the Parisian streets as they missed the company of their fourth.

++++

_Beaubourg Quartier on the Rue du Renard-Saint-Merri_

_Rue Gratte-Cul Maison Close_

"Eh, Antoine, how's our petit guest doing?" Firmin asked, winking at the other men drinking over at the buvette.

"I think we can start showing him off tomorrow," Antoine grinned. "The other drugs seemed to have worked their magic when I checked on him earlier."

"I'd like a taste of the lad myself before we offer him up to our patrons," Barthelemi laughed coarsely.

"It was a struggle taking him out," Lazare snorted. "Took five of us to beat him to his knees before we could administer the knock-out drug when we brought him here."

"Fought like a damn Musketeer he did," Firmin rubbed his sore ribs that their guest had left him with.

"He better not be one!" Nicolas barked in irritation, throwing a threatening look at his men.

"The boy had nothing on him to indicate he was one when we started tailing him," Barthelemi retorted.

"Don't you think that if he was a Musketeer we'd have the entire regiment breathing down our necks by now?" Antoine shrugged. "They haven't... so he isn't one of them."

"Vous etes stupide," Nicolas spat! "They just probably don't know the right places to look."

Frowning, Antoine stared at Nicolas with a hurt look on his ugly face. "No need for name calling."

Rolling his eyes, Nicolas shook his head in despair at the men he was forced to work with.

++++

_Back on the streets_

Porthos met up with his two friends after they had split up in hopes of gathering more information, rather than sticking together as they usually did. He pushed a man in front of him forward until the lout nearly stumbled into Athos. "Now tell em' what ya  just told me," Porthos ordered, jabbing the poor excuse for a man in the back with the pommel of his rapier.

"Saw a lad fittin' the description your man here described to me," he rubbed at his chin, "nearly six days ago. He was being beatin' up and dragged to the Rue Gratte-Cul Maison Close."

Getting into the man's face, Athos grabbed the man firmly by the arms. "And no one helped the boy?" He started shaking the man in his rage until Aramis pulled them apart.

"That's not going to help, d'Artagnan," Aramis gently chided, though he too could have throttled this stranger as well as any others that had stood idly by while their young one needed aid.

"If memory serves that particular maison close lies on the Rive Droite of the Seine," Porthos clenched and unclenched his fists. "And our whelp's been in their hands all this time," he growled, looking and feeling like committing murder. This wasn't the news he had been hoping to hear. Not by a long shot.

"Let's go bring d'Artagnan home," Athos announced stiffly, "no matter what shape he's in." He realized the harm the people who ran establishments of that type could do to their country bred Gascon, and he shuddered at what they yet may find.

++++

_Rue Gratte-Cul Maison Close_

"The young one's quite lovely," Nicolas smiled with pleasure as he adjusted his breeches.

"You tasted the kid then, eh?" Antoine snickered. He knew Nicolas wouldn't be able to resist the temptation that the boy presented to his boss.

"Got to sample the goods every now and then don't I?" Nicolas winked, well satisfied with this latest addition to his stables.

"How was he?"

"Let's just say that the boy will be a big moneymaker for us and leave it at that," Nicolas chuckled as he went to his office.

++++

The inseperables agreed to leave their uniforms behind back at their respective apartments. Deciding it would be better for them to enter the brothel as regular paying customers. So as the three friends walked into the Rue Gratte-Cul, they were not surprised to see garish displays of framed paintings and murals decorating the walls of this establishment.

To Athos' displeasure, he thought most of them poor renderings at best, having been brought up in a household that could actually afford originals these left him with feelings of absolute distaste.

"Hello, gents," Antoine walked up as soon as the three well dressed men had walked through their doors. "What can we treat you to today?"

"Something," Athos locked eyes with the other man's, hoping to get his meaning across without actually having to voice it out loud, "unusual."

"Ah!" Antoine snapped his fingers. "We have just the thing," he chortled in delight. "Just arrived and been trained this past week."

"Trained?" Porthos didn't like the sounds of that and by the looks of it neither did his brothers.

"Put up a fuss is all," Antoine shrugged. "We've had to keep dosing him with poppy tea to get the lad under control."

Hearing Aramis make a sound of quiet distress startled Athos as he glanced over at his friend. Aramis leaned against Porthos for support as he kept shaking his head back and forth. Disquiet grew in Athos after seeing Aramis out of sorts in this manner.

"Mon dieu," Aramis moaned so quietly that only Porthos could hear him. "Our poor boy."

Porthos whispered in Aramis' ear. "Our pup's strong. He'll pull through this, mon ami." Having grown up in the Court, this was something that Porthos had never heard of before. He prayed whatever it was that d'Artagnan could overcome it. 

"Gentlemen," Athos interrupted, "let us follow the man and see what delight he has in store for us."

++++

_Upstairs in an elaborate chambre_

When the door opened, none of the inseperables were prepared for the sight they saw. There on the bed, in only a thin nightshirt, was d'Artagnan, who at present was being entertained by several naked men. He appeared to be freely participating, enjoying the lavish attention from the other men as he was kissed and caressed all over his body. Returning the favor, d'Artagnan reciprocated in kind without fighting off the many hands that touched his slim body.

"Merde!" Athos swore softly enough for only Aramis and Porthos to hear his anger.

Clapping his hands, Antoine dismissed the men that had been instructing the youngster. As he turned toward his three patrons, Antoine was surprised at the murderous expressions that were turned on him. "Those men are in our employ and were getting the boy ready for you to enjoy," Antoine cleared his throat as his gaze encountered that of the largest of the three. Not knowing what put that look in the man's eye he tried to point out their new acquisition's attributes. "Is he not pleasing to the eye? Quite lovely to look at or so I thought."

"Oui," Aramis struggled to get that single word out without pummeling Antonie to pieces.

"I will leave you then," with a last look in the boy's direction, Antoine closed the door quietly behind him.

Instantly Aramis went into doctor mode as he sat on the bed beside d'Artagnan's head to check the lad's pupils. "Fully blown," he said in anger. "Drugged to the gills."

"D'Artagnan," Athos grabbed the boy's chin gently in one hand, "do you recognize us?"

Everything was spinning around him as he tried to sit up. Swaying slightly, d'Artagnan stared at these men through blurry eyes. They were vaguely familiar but he wasn't going to wrack his brain trying to figure out why that was as he licked his lips in anticipation of what was to come. Eyelids fluttering, d'Artagnan's gazed at them all hungrily. "Who wants to be first?" Receiving no reply, he chuckled throatily. "All of you?" Laying back d'Artagnan splayed his arms wide as his nightshirt bunched up near his groin. "Come on then," he smiled beguilingly and patted the bed in invitation.

"This isn't even right," Porthos felt sick to his soul. The whelp didn't know them and was high into the bargain.

"Porthos, locate a back entrance," Athos ordered. "Our first priority is to get d'Artagnan out of this stinking hell hole then we'll have Treville shut this place down." Struggling to lift their youngest out of the bed, Athos and Aramis huffed as it seemed that all d'Artagnan wanted to do was get into their pants.

"What the hell did they give him again?" Athos wanted to weep in anguish. This boy was more like a son to him than a brother and to see d'Artagnan in this shape staggered him beyond belief. Athos didn't understand how God would let something like this happen to their young one. He prayed they could help the lad through his recovery.

"Poppy tea," Aramis muttered as he finally got fed up with d'Artagnan's inquisitive hands and knocked the pup out with a solid punch to the boy's jaw.

"Aramis!" Athos hissed, fluctuating between understanding and rage at how Aramis solved their dilemma.

"We weren't getting anywhere," Aramis huffed as he helped lift d'Artagnan into Athos' arms. "As I was saying, the tea is a water extraction of dried opium poppy seeds."

"That means d'Artagnan will suffer withdrawal pains as well as whatever else was done to him here," Athos said darkly. Changing his mind, Athos held the boy out toward Aramis. "Here you take him."

Rolling his eyes, Aramis waited as Athos transferred the boy carefully into his arms without dropping d'Artagnan on the tiled floor.

"There you go," Athos ran his hand gently through d'Artagnan's hair, bending to press a light kiss to the lad's temple.

"Where are you going?" He had always thought their pup a lightweight until now. Aramis guessed they should stop teasing d'Artagnan that he needed to eat more as Aramis was having a hard time holding onto the boy.

"Wait for Porthos," Athos nodded. "Get yourselves out of this miserable place."

Realizing Athos' intent, Aramis couldn't blame the man. He too wanted to strike out at the owner of this maison, but Aramis first concern was for the child in his arms.

++++

When Athos came downstairs he encountered Antoine again.

"Finished already?" Antoine was clearly surprised. Most of their patrons took their time, considering the fees they charged.

"I would like to give my compliments to the owner," Athos dipped his head.

"That could be arranged, Monsieur," Nicolas appeared by his customer's side. "The name's Nicolas de Dormans," he held out his hand only to leap back in astonishment when his patron unsheathed a sword and pointed it at his throat.

"The man upstairs is my friend and a Musketeer, you whoreson!" Athos shouted. Not giving the other man a chance to defend himself, he plunged his blade into de Dorman's chest. "Before you die, know that this place will be no more." Pulling out his blade, Athos swiped the blood off of it on the dead man's clothes.

++++

Seeing Athos coming out of the building Aramis let out a nervous breath as did Porthos who stood behind him, guarding himself and d'Artagnan.

Looking upon the slack features of the boy, Athos held back his tears. Time enough for that later. "Let's take him to my place."

++++

_Athos' apartment, early evening_

After settling d'Artagnan in the bed, Athos sent Porthos to inform Treville and give their captain all the details.

Rolling up his shirt sleeves, Aramis sat on the edge of the bed, runniing his hands tenderly over d'Atagnan's body to check for injuries. When the boy began to stir restlessly, Aramis stopped.

"He will be well," Athos clapped a hand on Aramis' shoulder in support as he pulled up a chair to sit beside the bed. He didn't know who he was trying to make feel better, himself or Aramis.

"A week's worth of drugged tea," Aramis sighed. "This won't be pretty, Athos."

"Our youngest has us to see him through this," Athos' eyes never lifted from the unconscious youth on the bed.

++++

Withdrawing from the poppy tea he had been given, d'Artagnan was like another person. Snapping and snarling at his friends who were only trying to help him. Hurtling hateful words at them all as he fought against their hands holding him down on the bed as he tried violently to throw them off.

"Arrestats! Dashats me!" d'Artagnan screamed. "Why are you doing this to me?" tears ran down his face.

"We're tryin' ta help ya, whelp," Porthos felt his own tears trailing down to his chin.

"Athos... s'il vous plait!" D'Artagnan observed his mentor turn his face away from him as he begged the man for his freedom from this all consuming pain.

Craving more of the tea, d'Artagnan pouted when Aramis refused to give it to him. ""Tas de merde! I NEED MORE!"

"Athos, I promise you d'Artagnan will get better." Trying to sound convincing, Aramis admitted his own words sounded lacking in conviction.

"Our boy's never used gutter language like that before," Porthos grunted. "Anyone would think he came from the Court talkin' like that."

"Or that he's hung around you too long," Aramis quipped, trying to act like things were back to normal even when they were far from it.

"Captain Treville told me earlier that he closed down Rue Gratte-Cul and arrested the remaining men employed there." Athos' face was like a grim mask as he remembered running his blade through Nicolas de Dorman. He had expected to feel some type of satisfaction for himself and d'Artagnan at ending the miserable cur's life but hadn't felt a thing. It was like he was dead inside. Until their youngest came back to himself, Athos doubted he would feel anything until then.

As the days passed, d'Artagnan had flu-like symptoms from his withdrawal. He ran the gammit from a runny nose, watery eyes, nausea to breaking out in cold sweats. Athos didn't know which was worse the boy's diarrhea or d'Artagnan's irritability with all of them.

"It's a good thing he only had a week's worth of that opium tea in his system," Aramis ran a hand down his tired face as he had hardly left the lad's side, doctoring d'Artagnan the best he could. "I don't think I could have held out much longer watching him suffer in this way." He thanked God for Doctor Devereaux who had been in and out checking on d'Artagnan's health as well. He had given Aramis some advice in helping him deal with d'Artagnan's mood swings along with some medicine to help the boy with his sore muscles that were beginning to make themselves known during his withdrawal.

"Treville's offered us his country cottage not far from here, just on the outskirts of Paris where d'Artagnan could heal," Athos said. "Of course we three have leave to be with him."

"And where else would we be?" Porthos laughed as he poured all of them some wine.

"May I have some?" d'Artagnan asked weakly. As Athos sat beside him, his older friend helped d'Artagnan to sit up and guided the cup to his mouth as d'Artagnan's hands were shaky at best. Licking his lips, he smiled gratefully. "Merci."

"Finally," Aramis grinned, pushing back the youngster's sweat soaked hair, "you sound more like yourself, mon fre're."

Finding the blankets covering him of great interest suddenly, d'Artagnan couldn't meet Aramis' eyes. But a gentle finger under his chin turned d'Artagnan's face toward that of Athos'.

Kindly, Athos asked the lad what all of them worried about. "What do you remember?"

Wincing, d'Artagnan pulled his chin out of his mentor's grasp. "Too much," he retorted softly. Then he laughed bitterly, shaking his head until his long hair shielded his eyes from view. "I was so out of things at that point, but I remember there was some pain."

Already knowing that d'Artagnan had been raped, Athos hated the thought that perhaps this was something their youngest couldn't recover from. When they had brought d'Artagnan back to his home, Athos had Porthos bring Doctor Devereaux over immediately to tend to the pup. He wanted d'Artagnan to stay here, feeling it would be much better to keep the boy from prying eyes at the infirmary. After examining d'Artagnan, Devereaux confirmed that the boy had been penetrated and needed several stitches as there had been some tearing. Hearing this, Athos wanted to murder de Dorman all over again.

"Devereaux took care of that when we brought you home," Athos placed his hand on the lad's chest and left it there.

"I tried to fight them off," d'Artagnan's eyes watered again as more tears fell and he swiped at them with his sleeve. He didn't want his brothers to think him a sniveling wreck, though that's what he felt like right now. "But there were so many of them and they beat me until I lost consciousness. When I did regain my senses they had me trussed up to the bed and forced that damn tea down my throat!" his shoulders slumped in defeat. "After that, everything was hazy. Like it happened to somebody else."

"We'll be with you every step of the way through your recovery," Aramis exchanged confirming nods with all his brothers.

"Captain's givin' us his country home ta do it in too," Porthos smiled trying to cheer the whelp up as he tugged on d'Artagnan's foot. "Maybe we could practice shootin' melons off Aramis' head while we're at it." Porthos laughed at the outraged expression on the handsome Musketeer's face.

"Tu es con," d'Artagnan chuckled and looked on Porthos fondly.

"Aye, you're already comin' back to us, brat," Porthos bent down to hug the boy lightly, not wanting to hurt him anymore than he already had been.

"What does the regiment and the king know?" This was something d'Artagnan had been afraid to face.

"We cooked up a story that you were kidnapped to be sold as a Spanish slave," Aramis grimaced. "This way we didn't stray too far from the truth."

"When you are better the king would like to see you," Athos watched d'Artagnan withdraw into himself at his words. "His Majesty just wishes to see for himself that you are well. He knows nothing of what you truly suffered at their hands except only what we told him." Noticing the boy's curious stare, Athos' eyes crinkled up in the corners. "We may have embellished on the fact that the injuries you sustained during this required complete bed rest."

A devilish light appeared in d'Artagnan's eyes as he started laughing. He didn't realize it, but the sound was a balm to the three men who surrounded his bed.

"How long may I have this _complete bed rest_?" d'Artagnan gazed at his friend's happy faces.

Dropping a kiss on the lad's head, Athos slowly smiled. "We'll work on that."

The End

++++

I used a lot of French words in this one, so I figured I'd give you their translations:

Maison Close - brothel

Beaubourg Quartier - Beautiful neighbourhood

Rue Gratte-Cul - Scratch-bottom (and was a real name for a Parisian brothel)

Buvette - bar

Vous etes stupide - You are stupid

Rive Droite - Right bank

Arrestats! Dashats me! - Gascon for Stop! Leave me alone!

Mon ami - My friend

Chambre - bedroom

Mon fre're - My brother

Oui - Yes

Merde - Can mean anything from darn, damn to shit

Mon dieu - My God

S'il vous plait - Please

"Tas de merde - You piece of shit

Tu es con - You're an idiot

++++

Also the explanation for Poppy Tea was what I mentioned in the story. I tried to find out if taking this over a period of time would create a dependency since it had opium in it but couldn't exactly find what I needed. Poppy Tea has many uses including medicinal ones as well. But for my story I used it to keep d'Art docile and dependent on it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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